


Alone

by orphan_account



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Angst, Drabble, M/M, post Mann vs Machine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-09 01:27:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5520317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Medic needed a replacement. The separation was just too unbearable. At least he didn't fall for his lies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alone

**Author's Note:**

> I don't care that it's Christmas Eve. Have some Angsty Angst Angst. I'll be collecting the thrown tomatoes at the end of the ride. 
> 
> I know, I'm evil. -puts on "Bah, Humbug" hat-

Caressing sheets, the warm light dancing across the earth, and the ghostly feel of muscular arms upon his skin were the only things that Medic could feel upon waking. The once pleasant light that created lines on his body, now turned cruel from the brightness as it burned into his retinas. Squinting, Medic sat up in bed groggily, the white silk pooling at his waist in a waterfall to reveal milky white skin, worn thin from harsh years and with rivers of occasional stretch marks and perhaps a mole or two.

“Misha?” he called, his voice raspy from overuse during the night. His azure eyes adapted to the light with each passing second, and soon they were able to scour the room in search of his lover. At first he thought it was a trick, that his mind was still too fogged by sleep, but he could not deny it any more.

He was alone.

His calloused hand slowly ran across his stomach and wrapped around himself in an attempt to copy the motions of his lover’s signature embrace; the one Misha gave from behind, whenever he was busy with paperwork at his desk, or with hands in a cadaver with blood up to his elbows. As he did so, he felt hot pain in his chest stab at him, and then freeze suddenly as the world suddenly turned froze, despite the warmth in his eyes and the threat of having salty water beads of emotion escape his windows to the soul. The soul that he had bared open to his now gone lover…

“Misha…” he whispered, almost like a crying child.

A door opened and Medic looked up hopefully, half expecting it to to be the certain Russian he loved so much. But no…it was only the surrogate that he used to replace him, to cover the pain and sorrow of being alone once more.

“Come on sweetheart, you ain’t gonna whine this early, are you?” the brash booming voice of the surrogate warned, snatching a towel to wipe the sweat off his neck and brow from his daily morning workout. Medic quickly shook his head, watching those powerful bipolar hands that changed touch intent as the blink of an eye.

“Good.” The surrogate said, smirking at how well he trained his medic. “otherwise, _I’ll_ be giving _you_ the medical attention, eh?”

He approached the German and sat on the bed next to his form, running his hands over his prized team member possessively. His trophy, his pet.

“You’re beautiful…” he rumbled, petting the night black hair with the noticeable greying edges that seemed to grow with every passing week. He tied his bandana over his own silver hair, positioning his prescription goggles over his older eyes. “I love you…”

Medic didn’t believe his lie.


End file.
